When he closed the door behind him, he sensed an overwhelming wave of contained energy waiting to pour out of the room. The person who stayed there could be reckoned to that of a young soul trapped in a constitution cocoon. The sparse, almost zen-like, interior of the room, and neat clutters of books, postcards and whatsoevers, shed a glimpse of the owner's futile search for tranquility. Trapped in a institutionalized society, he followed the norms dutifully but unwillingly. The inconsistency between his ideals and actions makes him a walking lost cause. He did not commit any crimes, but he is incarcerated because he conforms to the norms of society. All he wants to be is to be himself.
Every cell has a poster. so does mine.
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